


ungodly fucking slow

by linnhe



Category: SHINee
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 08:17:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6462760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linnhe/pseuds/linnhe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is definitely part one, i'll be adding more in the coming month</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is definitely part one, i'll be adding more in the coming month

“how come you never smile in your pictures?” minho had taken the car seat next to him, and was now pressing close – too close. kibum places his fingertips against his temples, two for each, and pushes them round in slow circles.

“don’t start with me, alright? i’m not in the mood.”

“i’m serious. you’re always making a face, like–”

kibum looks at him from the corner of his eye. the face making is being demonstrated with jaw jutting and eye crossing. it looks mental.

kibum leans in closer, wetting his lips by rolling them into his mouth before speaking. “minho.”

“yeah?”

“i said,” he mutters quietly, holding minho’s gaze, “ _don’t start with me_.”

“jeez,” the other murmurs, sitting back, “what’s your problem.”

kibum sits back too and stared out the window, falling into silence.

\--

he’s scrolling through his phone, cycling through posts of people’s breakfasts, lunches and dinners, of holidays, of pets, of aesthetics and hobbies and outfits. he should be having fun: it’s rare the plane’s wifi actually functions. and he does remember feeling excited about images like these, at one time. he can’t pinpoint why things are different now.

“i should get me one of those,” jinki remarks jovially, leaning into his shoulder. kibum places his phone face down on his lap. he knows jinki would never purposefully breach his privacy, and he knows he means well. but right now that’s not enough to stem the anger bubbling up in his chest.

“then get one,” he says listlessly, trying to discourage their leader from continuing the conversation. he doesn’t want to say something he’ll regret in an hour.

jinki smiles, and asks: “you think so? i don’t know if it’s for me. what would i even post?”

kibum can’t tell if he’s really this oblivious, or just acting like it to get him to talk. “selfies.”

“hmm. i don’t know.” he tilts his head back, resting it against the seat as he lifts his hand, fiddling with the little panel with light and airco switches above their heads. “i always kinda feel like i look like a potato in those... kinda deformed… you know what i mean?”

kibum smirks. “no. you’re thinking of taemin.”

“stop shit-talking,” taemin says right behind him, which makes his heart sink into his stomach with fearful surprise. he didn’t used to be this jumpy.

he turns around, peering between the seats. “taemin, what the fuck. i thought you were sitting four rows back.”

“i was,” he mutters, too busy messing with his music player to look up. “minho made me trade, he wanted to sit with the manager to talk about something or other.” the corners of his eyes crinkle, and he glances at kibum from underneath his brow. “i wasn’t really listening.” he transfers his attention to the back of jinki’s head next, reaching out to tap his shoulder. “hey hyung, i’ll make you an instagram. gimme your phone.”

kibum rolls his eyes and faces forward again, ignoring taemin and jinki’s chatter. jonghyun’s sitting on his other side, but he’s asleep, and quiet. a shining example more people could stand to follow.


	2. Chapter 2

jonghyun having slept on the plane means he’s overflowing with energy now, which translates itself into an almost non-stop monologue about increasingly inane topics. it would be fine if they were actually going somewhere, but they’re stuck in traffic. the other three are practicising their respective filtering methods: taemin is zoned out, staring at the cars creeping past; minho is reading a magazine in the front seat with a furrowed brow, and jinki is pretending to listen.

kibum is about to burst out of his skin.

he needs something to shut the babbling out, but one of his earbuds broke on the way to the airport and listening to music and jonghyun at the same time is worse, somehow.

taemin’s knees fall open, his leg knocking into his. kibum grabs his thigh, digging his fingers in as he pushes him off, which causes the other to hiss and frown at him. “ _ow_ ,” he mouths.

kibum leans in and says below his breath. “do you always have to sit like a neanderthal?”

“christ,” the youngest says, scooting further back. “where were you raised.”

“one mud pit removed from yours, alright?” he curls up against his window and pretends to go to sleep. he covers his ears with his hands, but no matter how tightly he presses, he can still hear them talk.

\--

they’d arrived tardy to both their schedules, and both of those had run late. which meant he’d stepped into his hotel bed by the time the sky was turning pink, exhausted and with aching feet.

he’s staring up at the ceiling now, as it grays with morning light. he’s so tired that it has made him wired, and he’s wide awake. minho’s in the bed next to his, snoring softly. kibum likes rooming with minho, if only because he tends to be terse in the morning, and is tidy. the last time he’d roomed with taemin there had been shit strewn everywhere, to the point where reception had complained to their managers. it hadn’t all been taemin’s things: he brought out the worst in kibum. but minho is a good influence.

the screen of his phone lights up, and he picks it up from his night stand, looking at it with squinted eyes.

lee taemin: _r u up?_

he sighs and puts the phone back, closing his eyes. he can see the screen lighting up again through his eyelids. he ignores it. it lights up another three times.

lee taemin: _it says read so i know u read it_  
lee taemin: _come down w me for breakfast dont want to go alone_  
lee taemin: _ill be at ur door in five minutes  
_ lee taemin: _dont make me knock i don wana wake up mino_

he writes back ‘no’ and turns onto his other side, before taemin can guilttrip him any further.

fifteen minutes later – _typical_ , kibum thinks, once he’s sufficiently pulled himself from the light slumber he’d fallen into – someone knocks on their door. it’s soft but insistant, stretching out over the course of a minute while kibum gets up and winces when his abused feet protest even the carpeting in the room.

he opens the door just enough to peer through it, scowling at the sight of a puffy-faced taemin.

“go away.”

taemin yawns and rubs fingers along his dark circles, looking up at the ceiling. “i need… dunno, porridge? a lot of porridge.”

“you need to go away,” kibum informs him, shutting the door again. he hears taemin talking through it, muffled by hotel grade insulation.

“there was a folder by my bed and i read it and learned they serve a continental style breakfast here. imagine, kibummie. imagine the pretty picture you could take of that.”

\--

“i really wish i hadn’t allowed you to force me to come down here. the food is terrible.”

taemin shrugs, both cheeks puffed up with rice porridge. “duz it matter? looked good on the plate.”

kibum scowls some more. he had, in fact, taken a picture; and it had, in fact, turned out pretty. and he’s not going to post it, just to spite (but he might show a friend when taemin isn’t around). “it’s cold in here.”

“ask them to turn the heating up.” taemin swallows, already scraping together more of the sludge in his bowl. kibum is observing him with barely veiled disgust.

“this isn’t mudpit central, you can’t ask something like that for a space this huge. it won’t work.”

the other looks at him for a few seconds, brow flat, and kibum catches on that the only reason he has seemed unaffected so far is because he was being accomodating, and now he’s getting fed up. he leans to the side and flags down a waiter, dredging up his best japanese to ask him if the heat can be turned up, please, because kibum is cold.

it’s clear the waiter knows who they are, is impressed with them – one doesn’t always follow the other – and eager to help them out. it translates into the central heating being put on full blast and a fleece blanket being brought out and physically put around kibum’s shoulders. he knows this is the point where he should smile and express gratitude, but he does neither, staring down at his plate the entire time. it’s taemin who does the thanking, repeating ‘thank you, thank you’ in accented japanese several times, and bowing from where he’s seated.

“you really should be able to say thank you without sounding like a foreigner by now. it’s been years,” kibum remarks when the waiter has gone, “when you flaunt your middling vocabulary like that it’s embarrassing to all of us.”

taemin shrugs and goes back to shovelling porridge. “i am a foreigner. besides, who would make you look good if i said it perfectly.”

“the old man.”

taemin’s spoon clatters in his bowl. he reaches over the table and grabs kibum’s wrist, squeezing it. “that’s not cute. you’re being rude.”

he’s finally struck a nerve. now that he has, he can’t tell if he wanted to. “can’t say anything about our precious leader, huh? not to you, at least.”

taemin gives him a bitter look. “so that’s what you do? go around dragging him through the mud? you probably laugh at all of us when you’re with your friends.” he looks like he wants to say more, but instead he suddenly gets up and walks away, shoulders hunched. kibum’s instinctive response is to feel offended that taemin would leave without a word of goodbye.

it’s not until after a catnap in his hotel room that guilt and vague feelings of disgust towards himself get thrown into the mix.


	3. Chapter 3

old man: _do you know what’s up with taemin? he seems moody  
_ old man: _maybe we should buy him a souvenir to cheer him up  
_ old man: _do you know if he has a halloween costume yet?_

‘a fan sent him one,’ kibum types in response. he doesn’t know why jinki is insisting on texting him when they’re in the same backstage room. probably because he doesn’t want to alert taemin – like that one would notice anything.

then he remembers taemin taking him down for breakfast and pretending not to notice the way he was behaving.

old man: _i’ll think of something else ^_^_

kibum glances at jinki, who is sitting at a table in the corner with his back turned to the room, and at taemin, who is laying sprawled out over one of the two couches with an arm slung over his eyes. their japanese is shit and they’re oblivious sometimes. they’re also thoughtful. he feels a pang of guilt.

‘i said something bad about you. i’m sorry,’ he taps into his phone. after a few seconds he erases it and gets up to go pee – or pretend to go pee. he just wants to be out of the room.

jonghyun is standing right outside the door, chatting amicably with a tiny girl kibum swears he’s seen somewhere before. probably a fresh debutante. she giggles at the sight of him, in a flirty way, and he feels a wave of queasiness in response.

he gives both of them a wordless bow and continues on, clenching his jaw when jonghyun calls to him to wait up.

“bummie!” he says when they both reach the bathroom door at the same time, after having jogged to catch up. “didn’t you hear me call out?”

“what? no, must’ve missed it.”

“right,” jonghyun says with a half-grin, pushing inside right behind him. they both pick a stall over the urinals, and kibum leans his head against the plastic wall dividing them, frowning with his eyes closed.

“why aren’t you peeing?” jonghyun asks after a while.

“i am peeing.”

“not making a whole lot of noise.”

“i’m doing it soundlessly. it’s polite.”

“nah, i know how you pee. you splatter like a horse.”

kibum bangs his fists against the wall, the effect underwhelming because he didn’t do it hard enough. it doesn’t provide the release he’d hoped for. “you don’t know everything about me, alright?! none of you do, so stop being vulgar and _stop lecturing me_.”

“wha–?” jonghyun mutters, sounding taken aback.

the bathroom door creaks open and kibum exits his stall, intending to leave before someone overhears them. he gives his hands a perfunctory wash, his annoyance with himself bubbling over. why is he washing his hands? so the stranger who just came in wouldn’t think he was disgusting? that guy doesn’t even know him. right now, he’s holding his dick to pee, he doesn’t care.

but a stranger might care. they might be following, they might be observing. that’s the thing: even when he’s not being watched, he feels like he is.

\--

choi minho: _where are you? we are starting soon  
_ choi minho: _kibum!!_  
choi minho: _this isnt funny_

jjongie: _are you okay? i’m soryr_  
jjongie: _*sorry_

old man: _please respond, another guest is recording first so we’re fine but i just need to know you’re safe_

lee taemin: _asswipe  
_ lee taemin: _how about u pull this shit on ur own tiem_

he picks taemin’s message to respond to – ‘shut up’ – and regrets it immediately, because he doesn’t want to talk. why does he keep giving in to them.

surprisingly, taemin does shut up. it irritates him further. he doesn’t want to be ignored either.

‘i’m coming,’ he sends to all of them, inadvertently starting a group chat. all four start responding at once, ranging from ‘okay ^_^’ to ‘finally!!’.

“stop blowing up,” he reprimands his phone quietly, turning it off and pocketing it.


End file.
